Sun, Snow, and Scenery: Cross-Country Skiing Arizona Style

The backcountry in winter is a haven for the solitary adventurer seeking the exotic natural beauty of the out-ofdoors. Pleasant Valley, below the Mogollon Rim, east of Payson. DUGALD BREMNER “What are you doing this week-end?” I asked her. A cold mid-January rain pounded the desert night as we talked over a glass of wine.

"Nothing special. How about you?"

"Well, this rain should mean a lot of snow up north. I've been thinking about trying cross-country skiing. How about joining me?"

"Sounds great. I haven't been yet this season."

"Oh...you've cross-countried before?" My male ego flashed warning signals.

"Sure, for years. A bunch of friends and I used to ski nearly every weekend. We'd even snow camp once in a while."

I was in real trouble. Having spent most of my life in the desert, I was not overly familiar with winter sports, or, for that matter, with what much of the world calls winter. When I was growing up, snow was something we drove a hundred miles and climbed 5000 feet in elevation to see. It was the white stuff we'd shovel into the trunk of the car so we could build a snowman next to the cactus on the still-green front lawn.

I'd done a little downhill skiing in college, but never cross-country. And as for snow camping, forget it. After a day of skiing, I'd far rather ease into a hot tub than shiver in an ice cave. And here I'd invited "Nanette of the North," an import from the frozen wastes of Michigan, to watch me fall, flop, flail, and generally humiliate myself trying to master the art of push and glide while she skied grace-fully across the sparkling snow, her laugh-ter ringing in my ears.

It looked to be a long, cold weekend.

By Saturday, storms had layered northern Arizona with more than a foot of fresh snow. Outside the window of Flagstaff Nordic Center's rustic lodge, the morning sun sparkled on a fleecy white meadow. A big black wood stove radiated welcome warmth as Bob Alexander, the owner, fitted Patty Paul (also known as Nanette of the North) and me with the proper skis, poles, and lightweight boots, and signed us up for lessons.

"Well, hotshot, this lesson should be fun. My technique can probably use some brushing up," Patty smiled malevolently.' She snapped her boots into the bindings and moved effortlessly across the meadow. I cringed.

I'd hoped I could escape public embarrassment by sneaking off for some private instruction. Then, after quickly and easily mastering the sport, I'd join Patty, dazzling her with my athletic prowess. Or, if I should prove a total failure, I could quietly feign frostbite, altitude sickness, or malariaor perhaps sneak out to the highway and throw myself in front of a speeding bus. But no such luck.

Jane Bremner, our instructor, showed us the basics: how cross-country skiing is a lot like walking (opposite hands and feet move forward and back in unison), the push-and-glide motion of skiing, how to use both poles to power downhill, how to turn, how to fall, how to get up, how to go uphill, and how to keep from going downhill too fast. Patty, of course, performed flawlessly, and in an hour's time even I was feeling comfortable enough to head out on the groomed trails winding through the dark-trunked ponderosa pines and gleaming white aspen boles near the 8000-foot base of the San Francisco Peaks, Arizona's tallest mountains.

Cross-country (also called Nordic) skiing today is booming all across the United States. Arizona's ski areas bubble with activity on weekends as skiers of all ages-many of them Nordic neophytesstrap on skinny skis and explore the winter-whitened backcountry.

The cross-country facilities also serve as social centers, adding structure and organization to what is often a solitary sport. Many Nordic centers organize weekly races which have become as popular with the ski set as the ubiquitous ten-kilometer road races are with runners. In fact, many runners turn to cross-country skiing to keep in shape during the cold months.

Some centers sponsor purely social get-togethers. Full moon ski parties include a romantic moonlight tour through the beauty of the nighttime forest, with hot drinks and a blazing campfire at trail's end.

If you crave solitary enjoyment of the outdoors, cross-country skiing is an easy and comfortable way to explore the stunningly beautiful and seldom-seen natural world of the backcountry in winter. After a deep snow, most humans venture no farther than where the snowplow made its last pass. The woods stand silently waiting, and the nonhibernating wild animals roam nearer to civilization with little fear of coming into contact with humans. And in Arizona, the scenic variety that ski touring offers is quite incredible. A substantial portion of the state rises to cool highlands with plenty of moisture, including skiable snow each winter. The forested San Francisco Peaks, whose dormant volcanic eminence thrusts 12,670 feet above sea level, dominate the high plateau around Flagstaff and draw skiers like a magnet. Hundreds of miles of back roads and trails wind through the dense stands of pine and across the alpine meadows of the Coconino National Forest. And there's also the peaks' Inner Basin, a gorgeous aspen-shrouded valley formed when the last eruption blasted away the top of the volcano. A favorite of Flagstaff cross-country skiers, the Inner Basin fills with snow early and empties late. Views from the basin's rim at the 11,000-foot level will leave you short of breath, and not just from lack of oxygen. From this vantage, you can see the Grand Canyon, mountaintops in New Mexico and Utah, and almost to Arizona's southern border.

Southeast of Flagstaff, the Mogollon Rim, a thousand-foot-high precipice, marks the edge of the Colorado Plateau and angles off all the way into New Mexico. The top of the rim gently undulates between 7000 and 8500 feet above sea level. Winter storms dump heavy snows there every year. The gentle terrain set off by astounding vistas delights skiers. You can spend all day surveying the mountain and desert ranges to the south from one scenic viewpoint after another.

Facilities catering to cross-country skiers serve also as sites and departure points for social events, moonlight outings, competitive games, and special family tours. A warm fire and hot chocolate wait at trail's end. JOHN ANNERINO Eastern Arizona and the White Mountains offer more top-of-the-world skiing and sight-seeing. Several ski touring centers serve the area with rentals, instruction, and set-track trails. Here, too, the snow-covered back roads and hiking trails of the Apache-Sitgreaves National Forest and the Fort Apache Indian Reservation stretch out seemingly forever across some of Arizona's prime mountain country.

Another choice area considered top of the line is the Coronado National Forest's snow-powdered "sky islands," high forestPredictably, the state's most spectacular ski tour traverses Arizona's wonder of the world, the Grand Canyon. Cross-country adventurers ski the forty-four miles across the deserted, winter-locked Kaibab Plateau from Jacob Lake to the North Rim; then, carrying their skis, they hike into the mile-deep canyon to the Colorado River and up to the South Rim. It's a grueling trip, but those who have done it say the exquisite isolation of the Kaibab Plateau and the Canyon's incomparable scenery are more than ample reward.

By late morning, after a few miles of awkward shuffling uphill and down through the snow, the rhythm of crosscountry skiing finally clicked. I relaxed, and my legs and arms performed automatically, each push on a ski bringing an effortless glide. The sun sparkled brighter, a gentle breeze stirred the pine boughs, the hills seemed less steep, and skiing suddenly ceased being work and became something easy and pleasant and beautiful. The brilliant sunshine and physical exertion warmed us, and we stripped off sweaters and jackets to ski comfortably in our T-shirts.

Later, lolling on the sun-warmed deck of Flagstaff Nordic Center with ham and cheese sandwiches close at hand, we watched some Northern Arizona University students ski by in running shorts and bikinis, and I marveled at my earlier apprehension. If anything, weekends crosscountry skiing under these conditions could never be long enough.

Make sure you are in reasonably good shape and don't push too hard the first time out. Cross-country skiing is strenuous exercise, and most Arizona ski areas are above 7000 feet, putting an extra load on your cardiovascular system. Wear a hat, sun glasses or goggles, and layers of loose clothes. You'll warm up quickly once you get on the trail, and being able to remove or add layers of clothing will help you stay comfortable as your body temperature changes. You'll burn a lot of calories and lose as much as four quarts of fluid a day when skiing hard, so carry water and high-energy food such as nuts, beef jerky, granola bars, and candy. Do not exhaust yourself or get cold. Do not litter. Pack out everything you brought with you. Most ski areas prohibit dogs on the trails; so leave pets at home.

If you've never cross-country skied, Nordic centers are the best places to learn. Most rent the latest equipment inexpensively, giving you a chance to try different types before you buy your own skis, poles, and boots. Many centers have instructors who, for anywhere from ten to forty dollars per hour, can get you up on skis and comfortable enough to go it on your own in one lesson. Trail fees are around two dollars.

Arizona Nordic centers include:

For equipment rental and sales, and directions on skiing in southern Arizona, check in Tucson with either of the Summit Huts, 4044 East Speedway or 3655 North Oracle, telephone 325-1554; or Discount Ski, 3939 North First Avenue, telephone 293-0080.-R.J.F.

Selected Reading

The Cross-Country Ski Book, by John Caldwell. The Stephen Greene Press, Brattleboro, Vermont, 1979.

The Eddie Bauer Guide to Cross-Country Skiing, by Archie Satterfield and Eddie Bauer. Addison-Wesley Publishing Company, Reading, Massachusetts, 1983.

Wilderness Skiing, by Lito Tejada-Flores and Allen Steck. Sierra Club Books, San Francisco, 1972.

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